Page 43 of Pursuing Desire

“Yes, it is!”

“Jess . . .”

“Oh my. Are you hurt?” says an annoyingly high-pitched voice from a few feet away. She flashes me a look of sympathy, but it lacks warmth. “Do you need any help?”

So much for being in second place.

“I’m just fine. Just taking a small break,” I grumble.

I refuse to look at the couple as they step over my outstretched leg. The guy pauses after clearing my leg and looks back and down at me. “Are you really okay?” he asks.

His fiancée, the sadistic bitch, is smirking. “Come on, Gene. She said she’s fine. We have a competition to win.” She holds out her hand toward him.

He ignores the outstretched hand. “Hun, I think she’s hurt. We should help out here,” Gene says.

Dax stands up from his kneeling position. “She’s fine. We appreciate the offer of help, but we can handle this.”

The lady beckons her fiancé. “See, Gene. She’s fine. Let’s go. They’re going to try to run in front of us again once she gets up.”

Gene looks like he might argue. Ultimately, he decides to listen to his fiancée and reluctantly walks away with her. As they get further away, I hear the lady’s voice. “She’s probably faking it anyway. They want us to slow down so they can run ahead of us again.”

I take a deep breath and force myself to calm down. This competition is bringing out the worst in people. But I won’t let her get to me. I won’t let this damn ankle get to me either.

“How are you feeling? Do you think you can put pressure on it?” Dax asks.

I roll my ankle around, and it still hurts, but not nearly as bad. “It’s not broken. I don’t think I sprained it either.”

Dax kneels down again. He prods my ankle in different places. “Any of that hurt?” he asks.

I’m still shaken from the fall, and there is some pain, though I’m afraid to admit it. If I tell him it hurts, he’ll insist we stop. I can’t stand the thought of causing us to lose. “Just a little sore, but it’s fine. I can walk on it. Just help me up.”

I hold out my hand.

His face uncertain, he stands and grasps my hand. I put all of my weight on my good ankle as I come to a standing position. I swallow the gasp that almost sneaks out when my other foot settles on the pavement. Dax’s eyes narrow on me.

“It still hurts,” he states matter-of-factly.

“I’m fine, Dax. I promise. Let’s just go. We have to be in the top three at least. If we leave now, we can probably still do it. We’re running out of time.”

Dax puts his hands on his hips. “You’re so damn stubborn. It’s just a game, just one round of the game. It doesn’t matter if we lose this round. We’ll do better next time. Don’t stress about it.”

He’s going to give up. My stomach twists into a knot. I look away from him. “You don’t understand. We have to keep going. If we don’t place in the top three, we might not win any money. And what if I can’t play the next round either, or something else happens and we don’t win? All of this is for nothing if we don’t win.”

His lips form a grim line of uncertainty. He puts our backpack on my back. Then, he turns away from me and hunches down. “Get on my back. I’ll carry you.”

“You can’t carry me! We still have almost two miles to go.”

“I might not be able to carry you the whole way, but I’ll be fine for a while. Come on. I don’t want us to lose any more time.”

I stand there awkwardly, unsure of what to do. I’ve spent the last week trying to avoid touching him, and now he’s telling me to plaster myself against him?

Like I’m some damsel in distress.

Weak.

Helpless.

I’m not a fan of this at all, but I don’t seem to have another option if we’re to finish this round.